


Long Range Snipe

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [23]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 02:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: It’s weird, sitting in history and hearing a guy two rows behind him talking about last night’s game and like, gushing about Jared’s boyfriend.





	Long Range Snipe

One of the coolest things about playing for the Hitmen — like, along with getting to stay at home instead of billet and represent his own city — is that unlike pretty much any other team, they play in an NHL arena, skate the ice that the Flames skate. 

Of course, that was a lot cooler before Jared looked at the Hitmen and Flames schedules, because there’s kind of an obvious problem there — if the Hitmen are playing in the Saddledome, the Flames aren’t, and vice versa.

That thankfully doesn’t necessarily mean that Bryce is always away when Jared’s home, or vice versa. There are fewer WHL games in a season, for obvious reasons — school’s kind a thing for some of them. Plus like, the fact more than a few of the guys on the team are legally minors? Also kind of a thing. 

It’s also rare for them to play weeknights, maybe because of some of the same reasons, but probably more because it’d be harder to fill seats if they did. Not that they’re filling the Saddledome, but they do pull in more people than any other team, so.

The Hitmen’s first game is right in the middle of the Flames preseason, the first of a home and away. Well, an away and then home, because they start it out in Cranbrook, stuck sleeping there and getting up at the crack of dawn to get home for their own game, because turning around and driving home after an evening game’s verboten when you’ve got teenagers on board.

They lose that one, but at least it’s in OT, and it doesn’t really feel like the season’s started until they’re strapping their gear on in the Saddledome, Jared back in the stall he had last season, Chaz stealing Koletrane’s spot beside him to talk about the Kootenay D, who were all fucking over them last night.

They carve out a win this time, though it’s tight, the final ninety seconds a scrambly mess after the Ice pull their goalie, and Jared’s shin is still stinging from a blocked shot when they pile into the dressing room after, already starting to bruise when he checks it in the shower. First of the season — well, first one that he’s really feeling — but he knows it’s far from the last. Welcome back, assorted aches and pains.

Jared missed this so much.

He checks his phone after his shower, and along with a message from his dad telling him where to meet up with him, there’s one from Bryce, reading _meet me by garage elavater?_ , which gets Jared grinning. His dad’s driving him home, but he can grab a couple minutes with Bryce and just tell his dad he got talking with some of the guys or something.

He thinks he sets a record for dressing, his hair dripping, soaking the collar of his dress shirt as he walks double-time to the elevator, mentally calculating how long he can see Bryce before his dad starts getting impatient. Depends if he’s struck up a conversation with one of the billet parents, probably, and since he usually does, Jared’s got at least ten minutes.

“Hey,” Bryce says, grinning wide and straightening up from where he was slouching against the wall.

“Hey,” Jared says, and resists the urge to bury his face in Bryce’s shoulder when Bryce pulls him into a hug.

“You looked really good,” Bryce says after he lets him go.

“You came to the game?” Jared says, which. Obviously. No, Jared, he just showed up after and pretended he watched. Idiot.

Bryce shrugs a little. “Yeah,” he says. “Thought I’d check you guys out.”

Jared finds himself doing the same, if maybe in a less hockey way, cataloging the stubble on Bryce’s cheeks, the slope of his throat, the curve of his lips, like it’s been forever since he’s seen him and not like, three days. It’s pretty quiet, since the garage is staff only, but they’re by no means in private, so Jared can’t really touch him beyond the affectedly casual hug Bryce greeted him with. He really wants to though, wonders if like, just getting a little closer, brushing their hands together would even look like anything. He curls his hands, resists the urge. 

“We’re heading to Vancouver tomorrow, so,” Bryce says. “I wanted to see you before that.”

“Say hi to your mom for me?” Jared says, before he thinks about it, then internally winces, because he has no idea if Bryce has even told his mom about him, so it’s completely overstepping—

“I will,” Bryce says. 

“Cool,” Jared says, relieved. “You’re back Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” Bryce says. “By like, early afternoon I think, if you want to come around two or something.”

“I’ve got school,” Jared says.

“Oh shit, right,” Bryce says. “Um. After school, then?”

“Yeah,” Jared says. “For sure.”

“It’s really cool you came,” Jared adds, then worries that’s, like, stupid effusive or something. “I’ll try to return the favour sometime.” Maybe if he starts packing food for roadies and saves his per diem he can rustle up enough for a nosebleed ticket.

“I mean, if you want I can get you some tickets?” Bryce says. “Like, I think we start the season away, but for our first home game?”

“Seriously?” Jared says. “That’d be awesome.”

It’s not using your boyfriend for tickets if he offers, right? Right.

“I’ll ask Bob to get me some,” Bryce says, and Jared has no idea who Bob is, but he loves him. “Four?”

“Four?” Jared asks.

“I mean, if you wanna bring your family,” Bryce says.

“That’d…yeah,” Jared says. If there’s anything that’ll win his parents over — well, more his dad — Flames tickets might be it. “Four’s great.”

Jared’s phone buzzes, and he knows it’s from his dad without even checking. “I uh,” Jared says. “My dad’s waiting, I’ve gotta go.”

“Okay,” Bryce says, looking kind of disappointed, a mirror of how Jared’s feeling. “See you Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” Jared says.

Bryce pulls him into another deniable hug, and Jared turns his head, takes the opportunity to sneak a kiss to his neck.

His phone buzzes again. “Fuck,” he says, pulling back reluctantly. “Okay. Tuesday.”

“Tuesday,” Bryce says, and grins when Jared starts walking backwards away from him, giving him this dorky little wave that has Jared grinning right back.

*

Flames games have always been a family thing — barring Erin for the past year, when she decided she had ‘better things to do’ — and the game against Vancouver is no exception, him and his mom and dad piling onto the couch while Erin heads upstairs to sulk or paint her nails black or something.

Bryce scores early, an absolute beauty of a goal, strips the Canucks D and streaks ahead, putting it top shelf. Jared considers maybe grabbing that pillow to put in his lap. If Bryce is going to keep doing shit like that, things might get embarrassing.

His mom and him high five. His dad grunts.

“Uh,” Jared says, because usually he’s the one celebrating the loudest. “Dad? We scored?”

“I saw,” his dad says flatly.

Jared’s wondering if he’s in a shit mood or something, even though he seemed fine at dinner, except then Casterley scores ten minutes later, and his dad whoops, plants a kiss on the top of his mom’s head. “Knew he was a great pickup,” he says.

Bryce got the secondary assist, and when his name’s announced on the PA, his dad grunts again.

“Oh my god, seriously?” Jared says. “ _Seriously_?”

“What?” his dad says.

“You can’t just _not cheer for Bryce_ ,” Jared says.

His dad grunts again, like ‘just watch me not cheer for Bryce’.

“Ugh,” Jared says, knocking his head against the back of the couch, and glowers when he sees his mom trying to hide a smile. It’s childish. He’s being _childish_.

Jared isn’t stupid enough to say that out loud, but he thinks it loudly at the side of his dad’s head. When Markson scores a minute later he decides it’s karma, and he cheers obnoxiously loudly to make up for his dad when Bryce scores what turns out to be the game winner in the third.

“Can you shut up about the stupid game?” Erin yells from upstairs, and Jared shares a commiserating look with his dad before he remembers his dad is _ridiculous_.

Bryce ends up with the first star of the game, and Jared uses the throw pillow to hide his truly stupid grin, sends Bryce a text with a flurry of stars, and goes to bed still smiling.

*

It’s weird, sitting in history and hearing a guy two rows behind him talking about last night’s game and like, gushing about Jared’s boyfriend. 

“Seriously, I know it’s only the preseason, but I think we’ve got a chance this year,” he continues. Jared holds in a snort and really hopes he means making the playoffs and not getting a Cup. Like, Bryce may have given Jared faith in an eventual Cup all through the magic of his hands (and mouth), but they kind of need a decent goalie first. Two decent goalies, even, if Jared can be greedy. Man cannot win by scoring alone.

 _Guy behind me in history’s talking about how hot your hands are_ , Jared texts Bryce under his desk, while the dude talks about how picking up Casterley is going to make for an unstoppable first line. He wonders what he’d think if he knew that Jared even had Bryce’s number, let alone, like, everything else they’ve got going. Probably fanboy like crazy, considering he’s not only got a Flames hat on, but is lugging around a freaking Flames _backpack_. 

Jared’s kind of embarrassed for him, especially since the guy he’s talking to isn’t contributing more than bored sounding hums to the conversation, then feels mean about it. Also like a hypocrite, considering he’s got everyone’s stats memorised. He’s just quieter about it, especially since he started dating a third of their first line. 

_u no it ;)_ , Bryce texts back, and Jared rolls his eyes.

 _I meant your mitts_ , Jared texts.

 _so did i_ , Bryce responds. _u got a dirty mind matheson_

“Are you busy, Jared?” Ms. Harper says, with patent sarcasm, and Jared hastily puts his phone in his pocket before he gets it confiscated.

*

If Jared had known Tuesday would be, like, the last good opportunity he’d have to see Bryce for fucking _eons_ , he would have taken advantage of it more. How, he doesn’t know, but probably less episodes of American Chopper and more time in Bryce’s bed.

At least they got some hardcore cuddling in? Like. Not that Jared’s a cuddler or anything, but. He’ll make an exception if it means being plastered against Bryce. 

Bryce drives him home after. Jared can still taste him on his tongue, which makes it a little easier not to repeat the whole public indecency thing. Easier, but not easy, and he’s pretty sure every inch of putting himself back together in Bryce’s bathroom has been undone, but he can’t really bring himself to care, though he does make sure to head straight up to his room as soon as he gets inside, fix his hair before dinner. Nothing he can do about the hectic flush or the rash of stubble burn, but whatever. 

The Hitmen are heading to Prince George tomorrow, a fucking slog of a bus ride, and Jared organizes all the assignments his teachers gave him for the three days of school he’ll be missing. Probably the only pro of spending most of your day on a bus: you can cram a lot of work in when there’s nothing to do but play cards or watch Slapshot for the thousandth time.

He cracks the books open early, helps Chaz with algebra in exchange for Chaz running him through Ancient Civ, which he took last year, and by the time they hit the BC border he’s gotten through math, history, and has read a good chunk of Slaughterhouse Five, only interrupted by periodic texts from Bryce, who’s barely out of bed.

“Dude, is that just one person?” Chaz asks, when Jared’s phone buzzes again.

“Yeah,” Jared says.

“Your girlfriend’s got no chill,” Chaz says.

“Boyfriend,” Jared says. They didn’t really hang at all last year, but now that they’re lineys Chaz has been sticking around Jared, probably since his lineys from last year are gone, one in the AHL, one to university, and if they’re going to keep hanging, it’s going to come out eventually. Pun very much not intended. 

Chaz is quiet for a moment. “Your boyfriend’s got no chill,” he says finally.

“Nope,” Jared says, and kind of wonders what Chaz would say if he knew he was talking about Bryce Marcus. 

_My liney says my boyfriend has no chill_ , Jared texts.

 _u tld him u have a bf?_ Bryce texts back immediately.

 _Yeah_ , Jared texts back. _He’s cool._ Then, in case Bryce is about to ask, _I didn’t tell him who it is, obviously_.

Bryce doesn’t text back for a few minutes, which gets Jared worrying.

 _i have chill_ , Bryce finally texts, and then a mad face when Jared sends a series of crying laughing emojis.

“Dude,” Chaz says. “You also have no chill.”

“Nope,” Jared agrees, and sends a kissy face to Bryce before picking up his book again.


End file.
